Tag Archives: Farrow & Ball

The myth of the country pub

I’m sure it’s a massive cliché to spend five minutes in the country and want to take over and transform the local pub, but fuck me, I want to take over and transform the local pub. I can barely pass it without mentally ripping out the claggy carpets and binning the Constable placemats.

Every so often there’ll be a piece in the newspaper about how country pubs are closing at a rate of knots and I’ll think how sad that is. Then I’ll go to one, and inevitably it’ll be some gloomy cave serving flabby quiches with crisp garnishes, the toilets cold and reeking of a combination of piss and urinal cakes. The soft drinks will consist of some ancient bottles of Britvic, while the (bad) wine list will be painted onto one of those fake chalkboard signs (Why? Because real chalkboard is too much of a shag?)

I know the countryside has many lovely pubs, but they seem to be the exceptions, and even the ponced-up ones are decorated with an almost total lack of imagination, as if someone’s told them that if they Farrow & Ball every surface and install a couple of roll-top baths upstairs they’ll be a five-star boutique hotel.

It’s such a shame. Everyone has a picture in their heads of their ideal country pub, and invariably it involves the same thing: roaring fires, cosy atmosphere, hearty but well-cooked food. But it’s amazing how few landlords bother to indulge those fantasies. Surely it can’t be that hard?

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Filed under General rants and moans

Tokyo Bike

So I already own an expensive bike I never use:

Say hello to the Pashley Princess, a product bought largely by urban women who picture themselves in Supergas and some kind of floral tea dress, cruising down country lanes, a baguette and perhaps a small dog propped jauntily in the basket. What they don’t realise about this bike is that it is in fact fucking heavy and if they so much as approach a hill, they will be sweating like Pavarotti on a stairmaster. If there is any kind of stair in your flat/house, forget it.

So bye-bye, Pashley Princess, you are last week’s cycle crush. This week’s is…

Tokyo Bike!

Simplicity at its prettiest, if you ask me. It comes in a range of colours to make Farrow & Ball weep and, because the brand is fairly unknown, lacks the smug, nick-me aura of the Pashley. Although it will be stolen in about ten seconds, because it’s lovely.

I only came across these the other day at Tokyo Bike’s pop-up shop in Rivington Street. I’m sick of pop-up shops. They get your hopes up, kidding you that your area is getting interesting and then bugger off, leaving nowt but a desolate shop front. And now there’s a whole pop-up mall coming…

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Filed under Fashion, House and home